


Rivers of Red and How To Care For It

by GalekhXigisi



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Purrs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Detailed Tampon Conversation, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, It's in severe detail, Menstruation, Modeling Is Hard, Nonsexual Nudity, Nudity, Pads vs. Tampons, Plagg Cares, References to Depression, Tampons, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, blood mention, hinted gaslighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 13:32:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18074333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Marinette knows things are wrong when 'that week' rolls around, and she's more than glad to help her boyfriend get through it if she can.





	Rivers of Red and How To Care For It

Tampons were never fun. If anything, they were typically painful, awkwardly situated and ever so much more present. But… Tampons were untraceable in photographs. There was no chance someone would say, _Let’s retake, you can see a tampon string._ No, never. There had been many, _Let’s retake, you can see a pad outline._

 

Multiple people had said to take the tampon route. Take it because it was easier on photos, easier at the end of the day. Mother, assistant, caretaker, even their own _father_ had said to go with the tampon route, though his words had been much more forceful than the others, solid and unable to refuse. If the younger had, there would be consequences, ones that could possibly be feared.

 

But tampons were annoying. They were a dollar or two more than pads and far less absorbent than the pads required. They were changed more often, filled with the fear that the string would get stuck or chunks would be left. Being diagnosed with Toxic Shock Syndrome the one time had been a terrifying experience, after all. You would have to pass a certain point or it would burn, would feel awkward, would make the cramping hurt more than it already did.

 

There were positives as well. For one, it was untraceable in both photographs and real life. The blood was also manageable, as long as there weren’t chunks. It also seemed to make showering much easier and less depressing, though the teenager still kept the lights off for personal reasons.

 

Sanitary napkins were his preferred choice. While the outcome was gross and left him to feel sick to his stomach, it was better, better for his mental health when there wasn’t a literal burning reminder there to remind him that things were wrong.

 

Plagg brought a new plus with him. The suit that he supplied kept his chest flat, flat as could be and his face much more masculine, far different than the soft features he sported. These are sharp and accented. He wouldn’t deny sobbing the first time he had seen it. Not only was a waze of happiness, but also dysphoria. It was a painful  _Why can't he just look like this in real life, without the suit?_  Both were thankful for the telepathy the suit provided, Plagg playing nice with Adrien, cheering him up quickly.

 

But there was suddenly a lady, one that he couldn’t help but fall for. She was strong witted, brave, everything that he craved to have been, to be. She was good luck, while he was bad, a polar opposite in charms. She created, he destroyed. She was the peak of perfection in his eyes while he was the lowest point of mistakes. She had a caring family that listened and seemed nice as could be while his was cold and even painful at best. She was into fashion while he was forced into it. There were so many things that they struck to be opposites on, too many to list, but they just managed to fit, their imperfections becoming blurred by perfections and neutral love. They fit into a perfect dynamic.

 

Adrien slips into the window of Marinette’s room, slipping beside her on the sofa. The two stay silent, deathly so. The blue-haired Belle strokes her hand through his hair, sketching with her free hand while he lets out a soft purr. Tears brim in his eyes, something that Marinette doesn’t comment on. She knows there’s no point in speaking. He won’t reply. He still hasn’t dropped his transformation, which means that things are still _wrong,_ that they’re too wrong for him to speak without breaking down into painful sobbing.

 

She waits, letting him stew for the next two hours, tears falling down his cheeks slowly. It takes an hour and fifty-seven minutes for him to finally calm down enough to speak, which results in the tiniest whisper of, _Plagg, claws in, please._ Plagg disappears within the room, seeking out Tikki. And Marinette leans down, pressing soft kisses to her lover’s face.

 

“Hey,” she whispers softly, “feeling better?”

 

“Not really,” he mumbles, words almost unheard.

 

Marinette purses her lips, humming. She gives him two gentle pats on the shoulder, a silent way to tell him to lean up. He slowly does so, back popping from the awkward position he had put it in. “Let’s get a quick shower, okay? I know it’s been three days now. And while you’re here, you can shower instead of having to do it at home alone. Here, I can help. We can keep the lights off and there will be no touch unless it’s okay, okay?”

 

Adrien slowly nods, green eyes brimming with tears once again. Even in the dim light, Marinette can see them perfectly, can make out the outline of them without issue. She just slowly stands, a hand offered out. And Adrien accepts it, slowly moving with her to the bathroom. Sure, it’s a little cramped, but the two make do. Marinette waits until she’s fully undressed before flicking off the lights, helping Adrien pull his binder off with as much care as she can provide.

 

“Any immediate no,” the shorter girl asks her lover, fingers laced with his as he slowly presses himself under the water, testing it. It’s hot, incredibly so, near burning, even. It’s the perfect setting, there to relax the cramps Marinette knew he was having based off of the harsh flinches he had been doing when they were laying down that resulted in him slowly bouncing his leg, a desperate attempt at a distraction.

 

Adrien doesn’t hesitate to reply, “Chest. Maybe sides. I… I think everywhere else is okay, but ask before, please?”

 

She nods, knowing that he can’t see it. “Of course, Adrien.” She falls silent, for the most part. There does come the occasional question, the whisper of, _Is this okay_ or _can I touch here_ passing between them, which always resulted in one or two taps to the hand, one being yes and two being no, because Adrien’s voice echoed too loud no matter how quiet he spoke and haunted his mind. Marinette respects his denial at speaking, especially since it makes him so insecure. She hates when things get to be too much on him.

 

“You know you aren’t supposed to have a tampon in after nine,” she quietly chides, though Adrien knew there was never any malice behind her words. He had already heard them this week, once. “Are you sore?”

 

“Very,” he replies, voice quiet. He can practically hear Marinette’s brows furrowing as she runs a hand over his hip, full of care.

 

“How many hours have you had it in?”

 

He doesn’t reply. He knows her worry won’t be voiced, but it was already present. There follows a soft tug of a string, slow and steady because shaking or being too quick made it painful and made Adrien tear up or whine, sometimes even both. It’s pulled out, leaving its host in much less pain than before. Deafly, hands wrap it in toilet paper before it’s thrown in the garbage, no light needed between the two. The bathroom’s layout had been memorized long ago.

 

Marinette’s hands gently massage his hips, silent as she does so. There’s a quiet whimper, not one of pain, but simply being _there_ because her touch feels nice, warm and inviting. Adrien wants to curl up to her exactly like a cat would. She lets his arms loosely wrap around her, chests haphazardly pressed together, though the shorter stays still as she can, all too aware that a little too much friction can start them back off at square one, resetting the entire board.

 

After a few moments, her hands move off, voice softly providing an explanation at his whimper of loss, “I’m going to wash your hair now, okay?” One tap to her shoulder follows which knowingly had also come with a nod and possibly a slight pout. If Adrien were pouting, it was knowingly falling away as her hands pressed softly to his scalp, massaging there as she spreads the shampoo over his hair. It’s almost completely silent, but Adrien was quietly purring, a thing that Plagg had said every miraculous holder of the black cat had been left with, both in _and_ out of the suit.

 

He washes it in more silence, though Marinette is a tad bit more handsy than needed, which has Adrien purring almost twice as loud, an unspoken sign that he’s feeling much better than he had been earlier. Conditioner follows, then yet another slip under the water before Adrien is doing the same process with her, a content purr bubbling from his chest. He leaves a braid in her hair, sitting there in the exact same place it always did. He had never once explained it to Marinette, but she always had a painful theory that it had something to do with his mother, but she would never consider asking.

 

The two lean in together softly, body shapes perfectly clicking together, hands on hips or shoulders, mouths interlocked with gentle kisses being pressed in between them. It’s nothing sexual, despite the nudity and the opportunity to do _anything,_ instead just a silent reminder that things are okay, that they’re calm and getting better. It’s also a silent _thank you_ from Adrien. For cheering him up, for helping him, for letting him just _be there._ And Marinette accepts them, returning her own gentle kisses.

 

Getting dressed is much quicker for Adrien. Marinette keeps multiple sets of extra clothes, set for nights like these when things are too much and she herself asks him to stay over, which is incredibly common. With a pushy father and busy work schedule, more nights were spent in Marinette’s home than his own.

 

Adrien slips on a large hoodie and boxers quick, because it makes things easier, even if he still has a towel wrapped around his head that held up his hair and made things a little more awkward than needed. Marinette sits for much longer before eventually putting on pajama pants and a tank top, the outfit all in all comfortable.

 

“You did put on a pad, right,” Marinette asks before Adrien has a chance to get comfortable because then that would mean he would have to get up again and the taller would be back a base or two. One tap presses to the top of her hand, confirmation because nodding would do no good with the room being near pitch black, the only provided lighting being fairy lights strung up around her desk. “Okay. Thank you, Adrien.”

 

“For,” he whispers in question after a pause, a knowing moment of his forcing his mental issues away to ask the quiet word just before fully slipping underneath the blanket. He presses his head to her chest, coiling himself around her with his legs tangled in hers and hands around her waist, one laying there much more lazily than the other.

 

Marinette’s arms loosely slit themselves between Adrien’s neck and shoulders, a smile on her lips as she tucks him beneath her, chin resting atop his head. Her words are soft, muffled by golden hair. “For coming to me. I know it’s hard, but it’s good that you came here, that we could get through this. Thank you for trusting me enough to help you.”

 

A quiet purr resonates from the one currently hogging the blankets, mostly because Marinette was naturally much warmer than he, an annoyance that both found clear. He doesn’t respond, just pressing against her a little more, bodies flush against each other now. Adrien doesn’t need to respond to it. She knows he’s content, that the purring is enough of a confirmation that things are okay. Things are _okay_ for once, genuinely so. And it’s a good in between of good and bad, getting a middle that consists of good days and bad ones. Marinette was always there to help, something Adrien had forced himself to be reminded of after so many months of dating, played it through his head and had confirmed countless times for it to actually stick.

  
Things weren’t always good, no, far from it, but they were getting _better,_ and that’s what matters, what was being said and reminded as much as could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and chat with me
> 
> Tumblr: GalehkXigisi or Transheman
> 
> Instagram: Todorokishootme or Assbutt666
> 
> Discord: Shooketh Whomst#2679
> 
> Twitter (SFW): DavenderLav
> 
> Twitter (NSFW): DaveyWinchester
> 
> Kik: AdrienSatan


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